


Corpus Cox

by MissDrarryDawn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Azkaban, HealerHarry, M/M, PostWar, fallinginLove, hurtcomfort, sadfluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 17:17:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20510636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissDrarryDawn/pseuds/MissDrarryDawn
Summary: There was only one way to save Draco Malfoy's life that day.And now, 3 years later,  just a mere shell of who he once was, Harry still doesn't regret it.No, he never once regretted it.Not when he was arrested.Not when he was tried, and found guilty.Not when he was sentenced to 3 years in Azkaban.Not when he was locked in the dingy cell.Not when the Dementors devoured his soul.Never.//Completed//Word count: 4.4k





	Corpus Cox

**Author's Note:**

> the amount of support on this website blew me away! i admit, i always had this nagging feeling that ao3 would be pretentious, but it's really not! it's so open and the people are so lovely! thank you!

There's only one way to save Malfoy's life now.

And, of course, it's extremely illegal.

_Corpus Cox._

One of the _most _illegal healing spells, casting it landed you straight into Azkaban.

_Fuck!_

Harry stared at the dying blonde, cursing over and over again. When he was admitted, no one wanted to take his case, except Harry. Harry was more than happy to be Malfoy's Healer, even if he had to do it alone.

There's only one _fucking_ way.

"You better survive this Malfoy." 

Harry hissed through clenched teeth, tears streaming down his cheeks as he held out his wand, forcing the words out of his mouth:

"_Corpus Cox._" 

A red light undulated from the tip of his wand, strings of it grasping at Malfoy at once, wrapping around him, around all of his injuries, internal and external, searing the wounds shut, repairing what was broken. The spell gave as much as it healed, weakening Malfoy's magic while it fixed him. Only rare few knew that your magic replenished with ample time even if the spell was cast on you. Harry couldn't prove that to the Ministry however, so it still remained as one of the most illegal healing spells.

"If I go to Azkaban for you Malfoy--" Harry hissed, straining for the effort of casting, noticing color flush back into Malfoy's skin. The red strings of light dissipated as their work was done, and Malfoy woke up with a start. It startled Harry, and he rushed to wipe his eyes of tears. 

"Potter?" The blonde asked, staring all around himself as he sat up. "What happened?" He asked, still bleary. Harry tried to smile, but it came out wobbly:

"A hate crime. You've been in here for _weeks_ and.." Harry didn't know if he should continue. Malfoy wouldn't rat him out, of course he knew, but he did just perform a highly illegal spell after all.

"And?" The blonde croaked, his words having none of their past bite.

"You were dying. I had to use Corpus Cox to save you." Harry forced out, voice barely a strained whisper. He noticed Malfoy's eyes widen ever so slightly, before two Aurors burst into the room, and before either could blink, they were apprehending Harry. He sighed, anxiety coiling his stomach. He knew this would happen, though he hoped he would have at least had the time to say goodbye. Harry didn't struggle against them.

"No--wait!" Malfoy suddenly scrabbled out of bed, the hospital pajama's fluttering around his lithe frame as he approached the Aurors holding Harry. "He--He did it to save my life--You have to listen--" They cut him off curtly however:

"Mr.Potter used a highly illegal spell and is therefore under arrest. He will be tried about the circumstances of this case, and sentenced accordingly." 

A flash of challenge snapped in Malfoy's eyes, but Harry gave him a meaningful look. _Don't, _he hoped the blonde understood, _they're just looking for a reason to arrest you._

"But.." He sputtered, but they were already walking Harry out of the room, seizing his wand. He gave a final smile over his shoulder to Malfoy, and let his head drop.

~

"Harry Potter, you have been found _guilty_! You are sentenced to _3 years in Azkaban _for the crime you've committed!" The judge bellowed, slamming the verdict down over the courtroom.

"NO! YOU CAN'T DO THIS--" Malfoy slammed his hands on the bench in front of him, standing up, his eyes flaring. "HE SAVED MY LIFE! HE SAVED ALL OF YOUR LIVES!" Tears were dripping out of the grey pools by now. Security came in to escort him, and he thrashed for a brief while, still cursing at them, eyes never leaving Harry's.

Harry remained calm, a sad smile on his face: 

"It's okay Malfoy." He called out to him, and the doors closed shut as they dragged the struggling blonde out of the court room.

~

The doors of the cell shut as Harry was pushed inside, the guards giving him apologetic looks every now and then. Harry didn't struggle still, it still hadn't hit him. He just sat down on the hard bed in the corner, and stared out through the bars. It was dark, and he couldn't see anything, but he wasn't really looking either. 

It was only later that night that it finally sunk in that he was in Azkaban, locked away for 3 long years, for saving someone's life. 

His chest had constricted so painfully, realizing he won't see his friends for a long time, realizing he'll miss out on so many things, tears burning his eyes but not quite falling. His throat felt tight, and Harry couldn't fucking _breathe_. He curled up on the stiff mattress, heaving dry sobs quietly, hoping no one would hear him. Yet, he didn't regret what he'd done. No, not at all. 

It saved Malfoy's life. That was what mattered.

Harry didn't regret it.

~

The day they released Harry from Azkaban, 3 years later, he didn't know whether to be terrified or excited. He almost didn't want to leave, but the constant cold throb in his chest where the Dementors had sucked him dry of happiness reminded him of why he'd longed to see the light of day again. He'd nearly offed himself a few times, he certainly had gotten the means necessary, but, out of sheer stubbornness, out of the choking need to see his friends again, to hug them, he persevered. He didn't kill the fucking Dark Lord just to die in prison. 

Now, he was being let out, finally. The press, naturally, had a field day, snapping pictures of him as he was escorted out. He was told his Gringotts vault would be suspended for the first 6 months, the Grimmauld manor was confiscated, and his wand had been returned to him, finally marking him a free man once more.

You could count each of his ribs, as well as the knobs of his spine, his cheeks hollowed, eyes dead and dull, hair a tangled mess. Dressed in a shirt several size bigger than him, and ragged sweatpants and sneakers, he walked out of Azkaban. So many stopped to stare, but he just buried his hands into the pockets of the sweatpants, and kept his head bowed as he slinked through the streets. He truly had nowhere to go now. He didn't want to impede upon Ron and Hermione looking like this. At the beginning, they wrote to him nearly every other day, visited often, but then Hermione got pregnant, and Harry assumed they were swept off in their own lives. He was happy for them, truly, though he felt happiness differently now than he used to.

Before, happiness was a warm, fuzzy feeling that made his entire body alight with a bright fire that made him smile and grin.

Now, happiness felt cold and dark, tentative, waiting to be sucked straight out of his chest, to feed those blasted Dementors.

Harry Apparated to Diagon Alley, finally able to use his magic again, feeling so thankful for the pleasant crackle of his blood when his magic woke up after 3 long years of stasis, slinking through little shadowy back alleys, fondly remembering Hagrid taking him through when he was 11 years old. He kept out of sight of most, too nervous to disappoint them. Their Hero, _heh, yea right. _For a brief moment, he wondered where Malfoy was now, if he was well. Harry never forgot how valiantly he testified for Harry's innocence, how he cried when Harry was declared guilty. It was the most unexpected behavior, but it made sense to Harry. His eyes strained behind his grimy glasses, the sky much too bright for his liking, after spending so long staring at a murky, damp ceiling, and dead Dementor eyes. If the things even had them, that was.

He hadn't realized he'd wondered into the main street, following a gentle chime of music. In Azkaban, hearing music meant the Dementors would withdraw for at least a day, letting the prisoners collect themselves, before the wretches descended upon them again. Dementors hated music, it was this beautiful thing, and they were everything but. Of course they recoiled from it. Following music had grown to become a kind of instinct to Harry.

His uneasy steps were cut off when he slammed head first into someone. He stepped back immediately, breath laboring and hitching. Bumping into other prisoners was never a good idea. One of them attempted to cut Harry's scar out of his forehead once, the guards stopping him just barely. Now he had a semi circle scar curling around his scar on his forehead. However, when he heard the other person gasp fervently, Harry looked up and his mind halted.

It was Malfoy.

"P-Pott-Potter..is..is that y-you?" The blonde stammered, eyes wide, staring at Harry with so much open hope, Harry just nodded and croaked out a quiet 'hello'. The blonde said nothing, standing painfully stiffly, just staring, disbelief and more coiling behind his gray eyes. 

"I...When were you..let out..? He finally asked, tone reluctant. Harry bit his lip, feeling nervous under the scrutiny. 

"Today.." He muttered, barely loud enough to be heard. Being quiet was good, it made most of the other prisoners stay away from him, just like Harry had liked it.

"Merlin..I.." Draco tried to speak again, but his tongue seemed tied into painful knots. "I'm sorry.." He finally muttered, looking down at his shoes. 

"For what?" Harry whispered. He wasn't really used to speaking in full sentences anymore. It would take awhile.

"It was my fault that you.." Draco couldn't say it.

"No, it wasn't." Harry assured, shoulders slumping. "You tried your best." He added, as an afterthought. 

"It wasn't good enough." Draco muttered to the ground.

"It's okay Malfoy.." Harry repeated the same words he had 3 years ago, in the court room. Draco looked up at him, eyes swimming:

"How can you say that so easily?" He asked, voice wavering. 

"Because it's the truth." Harry muttered, looking up into Draco's eyes again. 

"Potter if it weren't for me you'd have never--" The blonde's voice broke.

"I don't regret what I did Draco." Harry said. Not once in the 3 years had he regretted saving Malfoy's life, even if he'd lost his own. 

"How? How can you just say this?" The blonde asked again, hands tightening by his sides.

"It saved your life. That's all that matters." Harry waited, racking his brain for what to say. He wasn't really asked much in prison, wasn't required to talk, so his conversation skills had deteriorated. "Not once have I regretted it." He finally repeated himself.

"You bloody _Gryffindor._" Draco looked away as the first tears overflowed and fell onto his cheeks, his words cracking.

Harry's lips quirked upwards ever so slightly. At least he hasn't changed much.

"Where are you staying now?" Draco asked, wiping his eyes with the balls of his palms. Harry shrugged:

"Nowhere really.." He muttered. Homeless. He was homeless.

Draco was silent for a few beats. Harry dropped his eyes. 

"Stay with me." The blonde then spoke, surprising Harry so.

~

The week that Harry moved into Draco's guest bedroom, Draco couldn't get a wink of sleep. He couldn't believe how easily Harry just _forgave_ him. He went to fucking Azkaban because of Draco, but _no_, he's okay with it! Draco could hear Harry whimpering and shuddering in the guest bedroom next to Draco's, but he didn't dare go in. One night he did, and Harry had gotten so scared that he'd passed out after a panic attack. Since then, Draco just grit his teeth and sobbed into his pillow listening to Harry falling apart one room over, not daring to enter anymore. The nights were definitely the worst. The days, not so bad. Harry was content just staring out at the sunlight and the clouds for hours most days, some days talking to Draco about what happened to him in prison. He didn't show him the new scar on his forehead, he'd kept it carefully concealed beneath his fringe. His hair had grown longer, but he didn't bother cutting it. Draco always just sat next to Harry, and listened quietly, wishing the Killing curse wasn't unforgivable on more than one occasion. 

Sometimes, if Harry was calm and collected enough, Draco would lay his hand over Harry's while they sat side by side, listening to whatever Harry decided to entrust him with, or just listening to Harry breathing. Evenly, serenely, it comforted Draco. He remembered how crushed he felt when they declared Harry guilty three years ago, how angry he was. He remembered Harry's sad smile, and the words he'd called out before Security had thrown him out. _It's okay Malfoy._ He remembered the day he woke up in St.Mungo's, confused as to what the hell happened, Harry standing next to his bed, informing him he had to use an illegal spell to save his life. He remembered how calmly Harry had walked away with the Aurors that day, he remembered the warning in Harry's eyes not to hex them then and there, and the smile Harry threw over his shoulder before they took him away. 

Draco remembered how he'd almost burned down the Prophet with all of the reporters inside it when they wrote article after article slandering Harry's name. Exaggerated stories about the reason Harry Potter was sent away to Azkaban, just a bunch of bullshit and lies. Draco even got in contact with Granger and Weasley, just to get some news. They were distrustful at first, but Granger had warmed up soon enough, slipping a bit of information over tea. Weasley took a lot longer, but they were now on cordial terms. 

This morning, Harry was sitting on the window sill, hands tucked away, indicating he was not comfortable with Draco holding his hand. That was alright. He just stared out of the window, curled up, looking so small and frail. 

"Eat." Draco softly chided, placing a tray in front of Harry. He looked at it, and a ghost of a smile graced his face, as he picked up the tray, and began eating. Thankfully, he was returning to a healthy weight again. Draco remembered how all wind had been knocked out of him when he stumbled into Harry that day in Diagon Alley. _Jesus Christ_, he barely recognized him. It were the eyes that gave it away. Although they were dimmed and dull now, the emerald green still shone through, and Draco knew those eyes couldn't belong to anyone else in the world. 

"You're a wonderful cook Draco." Harry whispered, still working on speaking normally. Draco just smiled at him, muttered 'thank you', and sat next to Harry like he did every morning. It was sort of routine by now. 

"I feel cold." Harry suddenly said, putting his food down on his plate. "I always feel cold." He muttered again, pressing a palm flat over his chest. Draco bit his lip, not looking at him while he thought about what to say.

"It's the Dementors." Harry explained. "They're scared of music, did you know?" He kept going, shaking his head slightly. "They'd play soft music to make them retreat for a day, so we can 'recover' before they came back again." 

Draco could feel tears in his throat, but he refused to cry them. He was determined to stay strong. He said nothing, he didn't need to. They both just..._knew_ what the other had meant or what they'd say, which made it a lot easier to live together.

~

It was a full month after Draco had taken Harry in that it happened. Harry laughed. He _laughed._ For the first time, in Merlin knows how long, he _laughed_ his real, genuine chortle. He walked into the kitchen that morning, and found Draco with a bit of pancake batter on his nose. And he _laughed!_ Draco felt his chest swell ten times the size, and he laughed too. Fucks sake Harry laughed, and if that wasn't the most beautiful thing Draco had seen recently, nothing was. And for the rest of that day, Harry was in a good mood. He didn't have ghosts in his eyes or a constant shadow over his face. He looked genuinely _happy_ for a day. Draco made sure to intentionally do something silly once in a while, just to make him fucking laugh, because that was all Draco honestly needed.

~

It was another month after that, that Harry had finally allowed Draco to come in during his nightly terrors, and stand at the door, a good distance away from Harry, murmuring soft assurances that he was safe. Night by night, Harry allowed Draco to come a step closer, until he was close enough to reach out and embrace Harry if he wanted to. But he didn't. He wouldn't push Harry's boundaries. One night, Draco had come in after hearing a soft whimper, and had come to stand at the set distance, waiting for Harry's instructions. He was surprised when the shorter lad grabbed a handful of Draco's shirt and pulled him into a hug, nuzzling his head in Draco's chest. The blonde wrapped his arms tightly around the raven, not saying a word. That night, all they did was stand embraced in the room until morning came. Harry hadn't cried, or whimpered, he just remained pliant and cuddled into Draco.

~

The third month was the month that Harry had tentatively asked for help with his magic. Draco was more than happy to oblige. They started with simple spells, and worked their way to more powerful ones. Draco remained patient with Harry, who seemed more scared than unable to do it, eventually managing it all with ease. It was Harry Potter of course. 

"Harry?" Draco murmured as they cast lazy light charms one day. The raven hummed in response.

"Can I see your scar?" It was barely audible, and Draco bit his tongue immediately, fearing he'd overstepped. However, Harry just put his wand down and nodded. He pushed his fringe back, and Draco swallowed his reaction. The lightning bolt scar was there, but now there was an ugly semi completed circle carved in around it. If Draco ever found the bastard who attempted to carve out Harry's scar out of his head, he'd make damn sure to carve out his heart out of his chest. Then stomp on it.

"It's not so bad." Draco murmured, the scarring had mostly completely healed, but it was still a jarring red. Harry let his fringe fall back over his forehead, covering it up. He shrugged:

"It's not." He agreed. He seemed on the verge of saying something. "Can I see..the scars..from..when I.." He trailed off, but Draco understood what he meant. He shivered, but nodded, unbuttoning his shirt. He slipped it off his shoulders, revealing the two long X shaped scars going from his shoulder to his hips. Harry sucked in a breath, and reached out a gentle hand to trace them. He barely even touched the scarred tissue, but it was enough to make Draco's breath hitch. He remained still though. Harry withdrew after a moment, and Draco put his shirt back on.

"I'm so sorry.." Harry muttered.

"I know you are. I know you didn't know what would happen." Draco assured. Only Potter would be daft enough to cast a random spell he knew nothing about. He flinched at the thought, and silenced himself.

"You've done so much for me.." Harry muttered, folding his hands in his lap, staring at them. Draco didn't know what to say.

"I know I've probably been a burden.." He continued, and a fierce need to disprove that _at once_ arose in Draco, but he stayed dutifully quiet, letting Harry finish what he had to say.

"But I am grateful.." Harry finally finished, looking up. Draco was only smiling softly:

"You saved my life multiple times, I owe you this much at least.."

~

The fourth month had been the best. Harry could finally sleep through a full night, and he was smiling and laughing more now, which only served to put Draco in an infinitely good mood. He even cracked a joke or two every other week, and Draco always laughed at them, even when they were really cheesy. He had talked to Harry about meeting with Granger and Weasley, and he'd agreed whole-heartedly. Draco owled the couple, and a few days later, an ecstatic Hermione Granger was bustling into his apartment, scooping Harry up into a big hug, murmuring countless apologies about why she couldn't see him sooner, or write. Harry just smiled into her shoulder and told her it was alright, and that he understood, as he held her. Then, after she'd let go of him, surprisingly enough, Granger wrapped Draco up into a hug as well.

"Thank you so much for helping him.." She muttered into his chest. He awkwardly patted her back a few times before she was pulling away. Weasley had been just as forthcoming with hugs towards Harry, and a pat on the back reserved for Draco. Now, they were sitting in the living room, sipping tea and catching up. Harry was caught up listening to Hermione talk about Rose and Hugo, and Draco was caught up in observing Harry's happy smile and fervent eyes. They had cleared up so much, they were slowly returning to that brilliant shade of green Draco loved to hate in school. 

"How have you been mate? We've missed you so much!" Weasley asked, smiling only slightly strained. Harry looked down into his lap, cheeks coloring, before he looked up and answered:

"I've been doing great since I was released. At first it was hell, but Draco really took care of me.." 

Then Draco felt his own cheeks color, as the attention of Harry's friends shifted towards him. 

"Why?" Weasley asked, not particularly suspicious, more lilting on curious.

"Because he saved my life, and..well, he's a great friend.." Draco mumbled, not looking at Harry. Granger was regarding them carefully, smiling:

"Seriously, Malfoy, thank you so much." She bowed her head for a moment, and soon after the couple had to take their leave, as Molly had firecalled to let them know Rose and Hugo were being really fussy. They exchanged hugs with Harry, and left.

"We're friends then?" Harry asked warmly, once they were left alone again. Draco bit his cheek to stop a grin:

"Yeah. Why not?" 

Harry just nodded:

"Good point. Why not.."

~

By the fifth month, Draco had learned Harry was an incredibly cuddly and affectionate person, if given enough time to grow comfortable. He would constantly either lay his head on Draco's shoulder, or in his lap, or play with Draco's hair, or just cuddle up to him out of nowhere in the middle of the day. Draco didn't mind one bit. In fact, he _loved_ these little ministrations of affection, always welcoming them with a smile. It was also by the fifth month that Draco was realizing there were more than friendly butterflies whenever Harry would fall asleep curled up into him, or nuzzle his neck, or Harry just existing in the same room as Draco pretty much. He didn't allow this to interfere with their relationship in any way however, and was perfectly content with the way it was now.

~

And then the sixth month came. Harry would be getting access to his Gringotts vault at the end of it, and would have no more reason to live with Draco.

And Draco _resented_ that on a visceral level. 

He didn't want Harry to leave. He'd grown so comfortable with him, so used to him, he just didn't know what to do when Harry left. He was also too afraid to voice these feelings, because he didn't want to sound selfish. But Draco _was_ selfish. Or at least he was when it came to Harry. He wanted Harry to always be with him, _only _him, he wanted to find him in his kitchen every morning, making tea for the two of them, he wanted to listen to the silly jokes and stories Harry told, he just wanted Harry. _Fuck, he was in love._

As the month's end drew nearer, Draco had started to slip away more, distancing himself, scared. Harry was confused at the sudden shift, he was confused why Draco was suddenly very quiet, very subdued, avoiding Harry. He'd asked what was wrong, but Draco had always told him everything was alright. As for Harry's part, he had something very important to talk to Draco about, but now, seeing how cold the blonde got, he felt reluctant to bring it up. You see, Harry didn't _want_ to leave, to move out. No, Harry wanted to stay. He wanted to remain here with Draco, he was _happy_ with him. But the silence and the distance really made Harry feel as though Draco wanted him out of his hair as soon as possible. He began to think he'd overstayed his welcome, and began to draw away too.

A rift opened between them, and they didn't really talk or interact much. They just...existed. 

The day the letter arrived from Gringotts was the day they'd both been dreading.

Draco walked into the living room, a white-knuckled grip on an elegant envelope which he dropped in Harry's lap, lips pressed into a thin line. Harry knew what it was without looking at it, and he took a deep breath, putting it away.

"They're returning your vault." Draco stated quietly, standing in front of the couch Harry was sitting on.

"Yeah." Harry nodded, dreading this conversation.

"So.." Draco started, biting his lip. "You'll..be moving out right?" 

Harry took another deep breath. This was his last chance:

"About that. I understand if I overstayed my welcome, and disrupted your life, and I am sorry. I'm grateful for everything you did for me. But I don't want to move out." 

Draco didn't react.

"I want to stay here, with you. You've made me so happy these past few months, and I don't want it to end." Harry admitted in a breath. In the same breath, Draco had him scooped off of the couch and into his arms, grasping him tightly, murmuring into Harry's hair:

"_Fuck_, I don't want you to ever leave me, idiot. I want you here forever, I want you to stay with me. I..I want you to be _mine_." 

Harry pulled back, a big, happy grin splitting his face. Ever since Azkaban, such grins on him were rare, but Draco was the one thing that made him grin like that, that made him feel warm, that made him feel fuzzy again. He wasn't cold anymore. He was never cold with Draco. Only felt incredibly safe, loved, protected. Harry looked into the gray eyes he loved _so much_, whispering to them softly:

"I _am_ yours, dummy."

~

_Fin._


End file.
